The Interpreter: A Tale of the War Page 6

  CHAPTER III

  "PAR NOBILE"

  "You shall play with my toys, and break them if you like, for my papaloves the English, and you are my English friend," said a handsomeblue-eyed child to his little companion, as they sauntered hand-in-handthrough the spacious entrance-hall at Edeldorf. The boy was evidentlybent on patronising his friend. The friend was somewhat abashed andbewildered, and grateful to be taken notice of.

  "What is your name?--may I call you by your Christian name?" said thelesser child, timidly, and rather nestling to his protector, for suchhad the bigger boy constituted himself.

  "My name is Victor," was the proud reply, "and _you_ may call me Victor,because I love you; but the servants must call me Count, because my papais a count; and I am not an Austrian count, but a Hungarian. Come andsee my sword." So the two children were soon busy in an examination ofthat very beautiful, but not very destructive plaything.

  They were indeed a strange contrast. Victor de Rohan, son and heir toone of the noblest and wealthiest of Hungary's aristocracy, looked allover the high-bred child he was. Free and bold, his large, frank blueeyes, and wide brow, shaded with clustering curls of golden brown,betokened a gallant, thoughtless spirit, and a kind, warm heart; whilstthe delicate nostril and handsomely-curved mouth of the well-born childbetrayed, perhaps, a little too much pride for one so young, and argueda disposition not too patient of contradiction or restraint. His littlecompanion was as unlike him as possible, and indeed most people wouldhave taken Victor for the English boy, and Vere for the foreign one.The latter was heavy, awkward, and ungainly in his movements, timid andhesitating in his manner, with a sallow complexion, and dark, deep-seteyes, that seemed always looking into a world beyond. He was a strangechild, totally without the light-heartedness of his age, timid, shy, andawkward, but capable of strong attachments, and willing to endureanything for the sake of those he loved. Then he had quaint fancies,and curious modes of expressing them, which made other children laugh athim, when the boy would retire into himself, deeply wounded and unhappy,but too proud to show it. As he looks now at Victor's sword, with whichthe latter is vapouring about the hall, destroying imaginary enemies,Vere asks--

  "What becomes of the people that are killed, Victor?"

  "We ride over their bodies," says Victor, who has just delivered afinishing thrust at his phantom foe.

  "Yes, but what _becomes_ of them?" pursues the child, now answeringhimself. "I think they come to me in my dreams; for sometimes, do youknow, I dream of men in armour charging on white horses, and they comeby with a wind that wakes me; and when I ask 'Nettich' who they are, shesays they are the fairies; but I don't think they are fairies, becauseyou know fairies are quite small, and have wings. No, I think they mustbe the people that are killed."

  "Very likely," replies Victor, who has not considered the subject inthis light, and whose dreams are mostly of ponies and plum-cake--"verylikely; but come to papa, and he will give us some grapes." So off theygo, arm-in-arm, to the great banqueting-hall; and Vere postpones hisdream-theories to some future occasion, for there is a charm aboutgrapes that speaks at once to a child's heart.

  So the two boys make their entrance into the banqueting-hall, where DeRohan sits in state, surrounded by his guests. On his right is placedPhilip Egerton, whose dark eye gleams with pleasure as he looks upon hisson. Who but a father would take delight in such a plain, unattractivechild? Vere glides quietly to his side, shrinking from the strangefaces and gorgeous uniforms around; but Victor walks boldly up to theold Count, and demands his daily glass of Tokay, not as a favour, but aright.

  "I drink to Hungary!" says the child, looking full into the face of hisnext neighbour, a prince allied to the Imperial family, and a General ofAustrian cavalry. "Monsieur le Prince, your good health! Come, clinkyour glass with me."

  "Your boy is a true De Rohan," says the good-natured Austrian, as heaccepts the urchin's challenge, and their goblets ring against eachother. "Will you be a soldier, my lad, and wear the white uniform?"

  "I will be a soldier," answers the child, "but not an Austrian soldierlike you: Austrian soldiers are not so brave as Hungarians."

  "Well said, my little patriot," replies the amused General. "So you donot think our people are good for much? Why, with that sword of yours, Ishould be very sorry to face you with my whole division. What a LightDragoon the rogue will make, De Rohan! see, he has plundered the grapesalready." And the jolly prince sat back in his chair, and pouredhimself out another glass of "Imperial Tokay."

  "Hush, Victor!" said his father, laughing, in spite of himself, at hischild's forwardness. "Look at your little English friend; he standsquiet there, and says nothing. I shall make an Englishman of my boy,Egerton; he shall go to an English school, and learn to ride and box,and to be a man. I love England and the English. Egerton, your goodhealth! I wish my boy to be like yours. _Sapperment!_ he is quiet, butI will answer for it he fears neither man nor devil."

  My father's face lighted up with pleasure as he pressed me to his side.Kind father! I believe he thought his ugly, timid, shrinking child wasthe admiration of all.

  "I think the boy has courage," he said, "but for that I give him littlecredit. All men are naturally brave; it is but education that makes usreflect; hence we learn to fear consequences, and so become cowards."

  "Pardon, _mon cher_," observed the Austrian General, with a laugh."Now, my opinion is that all men are naturally cowards, and that wealone deserve credit who overcome that propensity, and so distinguishourselves for what we choose to call bravery, but which we ought ratherto term self-command. What say you, De Rohan? You have been in action,and 'on the ground,' too, more than once. Were you not cursedly afraid?"

  De Rohan smiled good-humouredly, and filled his glass.

  "Shall I tell you my opinion of courage?" said he, holding up thesparkling fluid to the light. "I think of courage what our HungarianHussars think of a breast-plate. 'Of what use,' say they, 'is cuirassand back-piece and all that weight of defensive armour? Give us a pintof wine in our stomachs, and we are _breastplate all over_.' Come,Wallenstein, put your breastplate on--it is very light, and fits veryeasily."

  The General filled again, but returned to the charge.

  "You remind me," said he, "of a conversation I overheard when I was alieutenant in the first regiment of Uhlans. We were drawn up on thecrest of a hill opposite a battery in position not half-a-mile from us.If they had retired us two hundred yards, we should have been undercover; but we never got the order, and there we stood. Whish! theround-shot came over our heads and under our feet, and into our ranks,and we lost two men and five horses before we knew where we were. Thesoldiers grumbled sadly, and a few seemed inclined to turn rein and goto the rear. Mind you, it is not fair to ask cavalry to sit still andbe pounded for amusement; but the officers being _cowards by education_,Mr. Egerton, did their duty well, and kept the men together. I waswatching my troop anxiously enough, and I heard one man say to hiscomrade, 'Look at Johann, Fritz! what a bold one he is; he thinksnothing of the fire; see, he tickles the horse of his front-rank maneven now, to make him kick.'"

  "Exactly my argument," interrupted my father; "he was an uneducated man,consequently saw nothing to be afraid of. Bravery, after all, is onlyinsensibility to danger."

  "Fritz did not think so," replied Wallenstein. "Hear hisanswer--'Johann is a blockhead,' he replied, 'he has never been underfire before, and does not know his danger; but you and I, old comrade,we deserve to be made corporals; for we sit quiet here on our horses,_though we are most cursedly afraid_.'"

  The guests all laughed; and the discussion would have terminated, butthat De Rohan, who had drunk more wine than was his custom, and who wasvery proud of his boy, could not refrain from once more turning theconversation to Victor's merits, and to that personal courage by which,however much he might affect to make light of it in society, he set suchstore.

  "Well,
Wallenstein," said he; "you hold that Nature makes us cowards; ifso, my boy here ought to show something of the white feather. Comehither, Victor. Are you afraid of being in the dark?"

  "No, papa!" answered Victor, boldly; but added, after a moment'sconsideration, "except in the Ghost's Gallery. I don't go through theGhost's Gallery after six o'clock."

  This _naive_ confession excited much amusement amongst the guests; butDe Rohan's confidence in his boy's courage was not to be so shaken.

  "What shall I give you," said he, "to go and fetch me the old Breviarythat lies on the table at the far end of the Ghost's Gallery?"

  Victor looked at me, and I at him. My breath came quicker and quicker.The child coloured painfully, but did not answer. I felt his terrorsmyself. I looked upon the proposed expedition as a soldier might on aforlorn hope; but something within kept stirring me to speak; it was amingled feeling of emulation, pity, and friendship, tinged with thatinexplicable charm that coming danger has always possessed for me--acharm that the constitutionally brave are incapable of feeling. Imastered my shyness with an effort, and, shaking all over, said to themaster of the house, in a thick, low voice--

  "If you please, Monsieur le Comte, if Victor goes, I will go too."

  "Well said, little man!" "Bravo, boy!" "Vere, you're a trump!" inplain English from my father; and "In Heaven's name, give the lads abreastplate apiece, in the shape of a glass of Tokay!" from the jollyGeneral, were the acclamations that greeted my resolution; and for onedelicious moment I felt like a little hero. Victor, too, caught theenthusiasm; and, ashamed of showing less courage than his playfellow,expressed his readiness to accompany me,--first stipulating, however,with praise-worthy caution, that he should take his sword for our jointpreservation; and also that two large bunches of grapes should be placedat our disposal on our safe return, "if," as Victor touchingly remarked,"we ever came back at all!" My father opened the door for us with a lowbow, and it closed upon a burst of laughter, which to us, bound, as wefancied, on an expedition of unparalleled danger, sounded to the lastdegree unfeeling.

  Hand-in-hand we two children walked through the ante-room, and acrossthe hall; nor was it until we reached the first landing on the wide,gloomy oak staircase, that we paused to consider our future plans, andto scan the desperate nature of our enterprise. There were but two moreflights of steps, a green-baize door to go through, a few yards ofpassage to traverse, and then, Victor assured me, in trembling accents,we should be in the Ghost's Gallery. My heart beat painfully, and myinformant began to cry.

  We laid our plans, however, with considerable caution, and made a solemncompact of alliance, offensive and defensive, that no power, natural orsupernatural, was to shake. We were on no account whatsoever to leavego of each other's hands. Thus linked, and Victor having his sworddrawn,--for the furtherance of which warlike attitude I was to keepcarefully on his left,--we resolved to advance, if possible, talking thewhole way up to the fatal table whereon lay the Breviary, and thensnatching it up hastily, to return backwards, so as to present our frontto the foe till we reached the green-baize door, at which point _sauvequi peut_ was to be the order; and we were to rush back into thedining-room as fast as our legs could carry us. But in the event of ourprogress being interrupted by the ghost (who appeared, as Victorinformed me, in the shape of a huge black dog with green eyes,--adescription at which my blood ran cold,--and which he added had beenseen once by his governess and twice by an old drunken Hussar who waitedon him, and answered to the name of "Hans"), we were to lie down on ourfaces, so as to hide our eyes from the ghostly vision, and scream tillwe alarmed the house; but on no account, we repeated in the most bindingand solemn manner--on no account were we to let go of each other'shands. This compact made and provided, we advanced towards the gallery,Victor feeling the edge and point of his weapon with an appearance ofconfidence that my own beating heart told me must be put on for theoccasion, and would vanish at the first appearance of danger.

  And now the green door is passed and we are in the gallery; a faintlight through the stained windows only serves to show its extent andgeneral gloom, whilst its corners and abutments are black as a wolfsmouth. Not a servant in the castle would willingly traverse thisgallery after dark, and we two children feel that we are at last alone,and cut off from all hopes of assistance or rescue. But the Breviarylies on the table at the far end, and, dreading the very sound of ourown footsteps, we steal quietly on. All at once Victor stops short.

  "What is that?" says he, in trembling accents.

  The question alone takes away my breath, and I feel the drops break outon my lips and forehead. We stop simultaneously and listen. Encouragedby the silence, we creep on, and for an instant I experience that vaguetumultuous feeling of excitement which is almost akin to pleasure. Buthark!--a heavy breath!!--a groan!!! My hair stands on end, and Victor'shand clasps mine like a vice. I dare scarce turn my head towards thesound,--it comes from that far corner. There it is! A dark object inthe deepest gloom of that recess seems crouching for a spring. "Theghost!--the ghost!!" I exclaim, losing all power of self-command in anagony of fear. "The dog!--the dog!!" shrieks Victor; and away we scourhard as our legs can carry us, forgetful of our solemn agreements andhigh resolves, forgetful of all but that safety lies before, and terrorof the ghastliest description behind; away we scour, Victor leaving hissword where he dropped it at the first alarm, through the green door,down the oak staircase, across the hall, nor stop till we reach thebanqueting-room, with its reassuring faces and its lights, cheeringbeyond measure by contrast with the gloom from which we have escaped.

  What shouts of laughter met us as we approached the table. "Well,Victor, where's the Breviary?" said the Count. "What! my boy, wasNature too strong for you in the dark, with nobody looking on?" askedthe General. "See! he has lost his sword," laughed another. "And thelittle Englander,--he, too, was panic-struck," remarked the fourth. Ishrank from them all and took refuge at my father's side. "Vere, I amashamed of you," was all he said; but the words sank deep into my heart,and I bowed my head with a feeling of burning shame, that I haddisgraced myself in my father's eyes for ever. We were sent to bed, andI shared Victor's nursery, under the joint charge of Nettich and his ownattendant; but, do what I would, I could not sleep. There was a stainupon my character in the eyes of the one I loved best on earth, and Icould not bear it. Though so quiet and undemonstrative, I was a childof strong attachments. I perfectly idolised my father, and now he wasashamed of me;--the words seemed to burn in my little heart. I tossedand tumbled and fretted myself into a fever, aggravated by the soundingsnores of Nettich and the other nurse, who slept as only nurses can.

  At last I could bear it no longer. I sat up in bed and peeredstealthily round. All were hushed in sleep. I determined to do or die.Yes, I would go to the gallery; I would fetch the Breviary and lay it onmy father's table before he awoke. If I succeeded, I should recover hisgood opinion; if I encountered the phantom dog, why, he could but killme, after all. I would wake Victor, and we would go together;--or,no,--I would take the whole peril, and have all the glory of theexploit, myself. I thought it over every way. At last my mind was madeup; my naked feet were on the floor; I stole from the nursery; Ithreaded the dark passages; I reached the gallery; a dim light wasshining at the far end, and I could hear earnest voices conversing in alow, guarded tone. Half-frightened and altogether confused, I stoppedand listened.